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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28747314">The truth in the words not spoken</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparrow30/pseuds/sparrow30'>sparrow30</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Bridgerton (TV), Bridgerton Series - Julia Quinn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, Comeplay, Communication, Confronting the aftermath of episode 6, F/M, Hand Jobs, Oral Sex, and then bang, but really, it's about the talking, these two really need to talk</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 03:25:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,926</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28747314</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparrow30/pseuds/sparrow30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Dearest Reader,</p>
<p>All’s fair in love and war. The course of true love never did run smooth. Idioms such as these have guided the romantically inclined for centuries past, for better or (far more frequently) for worse.</p>
<p>But if you might allow this humble writer to submit one of her own, one that might be a touch more useful for the members of this year’s eminently dramatic social season.</p>
<p>Learn. To. Communicate.</p>
<p>Yours truly,<br/>Lady Whistledown</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Daphne Bridgerton/Simon Basset</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>319</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. After the Opera</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So I didn't hate the end of Episode 6, but I did spent a good chunk of Episodes 7 &amp; 8 wishing I could reach through the TV, smack their heads together and yell TALK YOU IDIOTS!</p>
<p>I firmly believe that these two did talk more than was shown to us onscreen (they must have done!), so this is my attempt at playing out how those conversations might have gone.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Daphne stared down at the red stripe of blood seeping into the white linen cloth in her hand, and promptly felt her world fall apart.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’d known she’d overstepped the second she saw Simon’s face, the heartbreak in those beautiful, expressive eyes of his as he called out to her from the bed. But she’d been so angry at the time, so furious at the realisation that the man she loved was capable of deceiving her in such a horrible, ugly way. She’d let that rage take over, overwhelming any guilt she might have felt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then later, when the full fallout of her actions had made themselves apparent, she’d clung to the hope that it hadn’t all been for naught, that there might be life growing inside of her. A child that she could love, and cherish, and dedicate herself to entirely, would make up for all that she had thrown away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It had to, because the alternative was too painful to contemplate.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But as she sobbed on her mother’s shoulder, that one last thread of hope snapped and blew away in the wind. She had lost everything, and had condemned herself to a life alone, no husband and no children, divorced in all but name at barely twenty. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>How could she have been so stupid?</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was bundled up in bed, staring unseeing out of the window at the darkened grounds outside, when a sharp rap at her door brought her back to herself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” she called, hating how hoarse her voice sounded after an evening of tears.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Simon poked his head around the door, his face the same serious mask he’d worn constantly since that fateful night. “May I come in?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Daphne considered saying no, but she was so tired - of everything - she just couldn’t find it in herself to send him away. With a small wave she gestured him into the rooms where she’d been residing for the past week.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Simon stepped into her room, closing the door softly behind him, and made his way to perch on the edge of her bed. For a moment he didn’t say anything, just stared at her so intently, and Daphne found herself getting lost in his gaze, as always.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” he finally said, just two simple words that had Daphne’s heart breaking all over again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you really?” she couldn’t help but ask. “I would have assumed that you would find this turn of events cause for celebration.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Simon sighed, a heavy, world-weary thing, and reached out to gently clasp her ankle through the sheets. “Yes, Daff, I’m sorry that you’re hurting. I’d never be pleased about that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But you’re not sorry that I’m not with child.” She didn’t know why she was doing it, twisting the knife for both of them, but she couldn’t seem to stop. It was like when she was younger and skinned both her knees playing with Anthony and Benedict in the garden. She’d peeled off the scabs again and again, rather than simply leaving them alone to heal.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can you really blame me?” Simon asked, “Regardless of my feelings on parenthood, no child should have to come into this world through an unwilling act.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Daphne blinked, surprised by his wording. She was not so sheltered to have never heard of men forcing themselves on resistant women, indeed their entire ruse had started because of Nigel Berbrooke’s untoward advances, but that wasn’t...Simon couldn’t possibly mean to suggest…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I admit that much of that night is a blur for me now, but I distinctly remember you being more than happy to join me in bed. Eager, even. I didn’t force you to lie with me, Simon. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Simon’s mouth pressed into a thin unhappy line, and Daphne felt a familiar sinking feeling in her stomach. This was obviously yet another area of marital relations where she was woefully uninformed. Why, </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span> had her mother not seen fit to educate her before sending her off into this den of wolves that was married life? She couldn’t imagine ever subjecting a daughter of hers to such an indignity.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not, she harshly reminded herself, that she would ever have a daughter to pass this knowledge on to now, so perhaps the argument was moot.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Daphne,” Simon replied, sounding truly exhausted, like a man well beyond his twenty-five years. “You knew I was unwilling to- to spend myself inside of you, and you made it happen anyway. You may not have forced me to lie with you, but you still forced me to give away something I wasn’t prepared to offer. It’s the same thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>It took a moment for what Simon was suggesting to sink in, but when it did Daphne couldn’t help but give an incredulous snort. “You must truly be blinkered if you believe that every marriage bed is - </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> - as happy as ours. Do you honestly think that all the babes born each year between young girls barely out of their first season and cantankerous old men twice their age are made with </span>
  <em>
    <span>love</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-” Simon began, brown furrowed slightly in confusion, and the sight made Daphne want to scream. Did he truly not see the imbalance? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You do realise that legally I belong to you, don’t you? You </span>
  <em>
    <span>own</span>
  </em>
  <span> me, and if this was the other way around - if I didn’t want children and you did - my wants would mean nothing.” She paused to give a mirthless laugh, remembering her invitation to Lady Danbury’s the other week. “I’m a married woman now, which means I hear things from other wives about the ton. I hear the gossip shared about which salves to use beforehand to make the act less painful, about how best to distract a drunken husband who has come to claim his dues. ‘Lie back and think of nicer things’ they say, because nobody is going to stop and ask if</span>
  <em>
    <span> we’re</span>
  </em>
  <span> willing, that’s for damn sure.”</span>
  <span></span><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would!” Simon all but shouted, finally interrupting her angry tirade. “I would, and I </span>
  <em>
    <span>did, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Daphne, can’t you see that? Did I not do everything in my power to bring you bliss in the bedroom? Have I ever been anything but wholly attentive to your wants and desires?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Daphne felt her cheeks flush red as she remembered just how pleasurable Simon’s actions were in bed. She couldn’t deny that at least. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then answer me truthfully, do you honestly think I would ever act like those beastly husbands you speak of? Do you really believe that I would ever, </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever</span>
  </em>
  <span> try to force myself upon you like that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No! Of course not!” Daphne scrambled up on her hands and knees to take Simon’s hand in hers. No matter what else was going on between them she couldn’t bear to let him think that she thought of him in that way.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Simon covered her hand with his and squeezed, fixing her such a sorrowful look that Daphne thought she actually felt her heart split in two. “Then why didn’t you extend me the same courtesy? Am I not- not worthy of the same care I offer you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I...Simon…” She didn’t know what to say. Of course,</span>
  <em>
    <span> of course</span>
  </em>
  <span> he was worthy, more so than any man she’d ever met, including her brothers. “That isn’t...I didn’t…” She scrambled desperately for something to make her actions seem less wrong.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t want it to happen either,” she finally blurted, feeling tears start to track down her face at the injustice of it all. “You act like this was a malicious act, that I was intentionally going against your will to intentionally get myself with child, but I didn’t know what was going to happen because </span>
  <em>
    <span>you never told me anything</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She hated it, hated that they kept on going around and around in circles. Both of them hurt, and angry, and guilty for their part in making the other hurt, and angry, and guilty. And round and round and on and on it went.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know what I was praying for that night, when I positioned myself on top of you?” she asked, feeling the color rise to her cheeks at her explicit language but needing to make herself heard. “I was praying for </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing</span>
  </em>
  <span> to happen! What I wanted, more than anything, was for you to be physically unable to finish until you were outside of my body, because then it would have meant that you </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t lie to me</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She looked up at Simon through tear-filled eyes, hoping against hope to see something  - anything - on his face that might counter what she knew in her heart to be true. But there was nothing of the sort, only crushing confirmation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When she spoke again she could hear the tired resignation in her voice. “You hide behind this idea that you’re upholding some kind of noble vow, but you still can’t seem to value me enough to explain </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span> you’d make such a life-altering pact. A pact that impacts me just as much as it does you, I might add. Tell me, husband of mine, how can any pursuit be considered noble if it requires you to forsake the core tenets of honesty and respect in the process?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Simon continued to say nothing, but she didn’t expect him to. Ever since he first admitted to her the vow he’d made to his dying father he’d been entirely close-lipped on the subject, no matter how Daphne might ask. Whatever had passed between father and son, he was clearly unwilling to share, even with her. That hurt just as much as everything else that had transpired between them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She paused, exhaling heavily as the weight of all that had passed between them made itself known in her heart. “You knew, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> I was an innocent, and you took advantage of my naivety to benefit your own ends. I may have taken something you didn’t want to give, but you didn’t even let me know that there was something you were withholding. How is that any better?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Silence fell between them, thick and cloying, and Daphne had to resist the urge to scratch at her throat. After what felt like an age Simon gave a heavy sigh. “Where do we go from here, Daff?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” Daphne admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “I just don’t know.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Simon stared at her for a moment longer, gaze deep and piercing in a way that usually made Daphne shiver in excitement, but now just made her want to shrivel up and die. Eventually he sighed again and stood up, his hand slipping sadly out of her grasp.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Today has been incredibly taxing, you should get some rest.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Simon-” Daphne tried to argue, but Simon cut her off with a tired wave.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No more, not tonight. I just can’t,” he paused for a second then seemed to steel himself. “Some time apart will help. You can stay here in London near your family and I’ll return to Clyvedon. It will help,” he repeated with a head nod, as if to convince himself as much as anything.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then, without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and disappeared through the door, leaving Daphne alone with her sadness and guilt.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. After the Ball</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Of all the shenanigans that the show threw at us in the last few episodes, the one I found hardest to understand was Daphne reading those letters and everyone (including Lady Danbury) just being okay with it! THOSE WERE PRIVATE AND PERSONAL DAPHNE WHAT ARE YOU DOING!</p>
<p>Anyway, here's more of them talking through their issues, this time from Simon's perspective. I will admit I found Simon significantly harder to write, so I hope I didn't butcher this too much!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Simon stood in the rain long after Daphne had turned to go inside, first staring at her retreating form and then staring at nothing at all. Her declaration echoed in his ears, bright and bold and utterly impossible. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Just because something is not perfect, does not make it any less worthy of love</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Surely that couldn’t be the truth. He had been told a hundred times in a hundred different ways over the years that he was lacking, unworthy, </span>
  <em>
    <span>unloved</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Why else would he have spent his entire life desperately striving for perfection, if not for a lack of any viable alternative? </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But then Daphne had stood right there in front of him, with rain pouring down her beautiful face, and promised him that she loved him, and would continue to love him, even after learning of all of his many, many weaknesses. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was insanity, absolute madness. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He had wanted to reply, to tell her that he felt the same, of course he did. He might not deserve to be loved despite his flaws, but there was no doubt in his mind that she did. But once again his uncooperative tongue had gotten the better of him, and he’d been forced to stand mute as she proceeded to blow his entire world view to smithereens.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And now here he was, alone - again - realising that Daphne still had absolutely no idea how he felt. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Worthy of love or not, he was clearly a cursed idiot.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He shook his head roughly, spraying droplets left and right, and stomped determinedly towards the door. If Daphne could be brave, and lay everything so devastatingly bare, then so could he.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He detoured to his own rooms just long enough to change into a fresh set of clothes - his housekeeper would have his head if he tracked puddles of water throughout the house - and then headed for Daphne’s rooms. Her door was slightly ajar so he pushed it open with a gentle knock to announce his presence, taking a deep breath to steady himself.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He found her pacing circles around her living space, a letter clenched so tightly in one hand the paper was crumpled under her fingers. It was one of </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> letters, he realised with a sickening lurch, spying the rest of the stack on her writing desk.  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She turned towards the door as he entered, her pace faltering as she took him in. “Simon,” she breathed, sounding so relieved it made his heart ache.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Daphne,” he replied, suddenly struggling to remember a single word of what he had been intending to say.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Daphne’s eyes darted down to the letter in her hand and back up to him again. “I didn’t set out with the intention of finding these, you know,” she said, waving the piece of paper for emphasis. “Your staff are all so loyal to you they wouldn’t tell me anything, and I just wanted to find something, </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> that would explain why you continue to shackle yourself to a man long since passed.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She gave a small shrug and walked over to her desk, putting the letter down and smoothing out its battered edges as she continued to talk to the desk rather than to him. “I didn’t know that they were even from you, when I opened the first one. I just thought it was some regular everyday correspondence that might give me some small glimpse as to the sort of man your father was.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Her hands started to shake, and Simon could tell from the timbre of her voice that she was barely holding back tears, but when she turned back to face him it was with a fierceness of expression that he didn’t think he’d ever seen on her before. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“My father was the best of us, when he was alive. I couldn’t even fathom what yours might have done that was so unforgivable, but this? This man doesn’t even deserve to be spoken of in the same sentence as you, let alone be called your father.” She gave a scornful huff. “The fact that you’ve still managed to grow into the sweet, darling man I love despite everything that monster forced you to endure...you do realise it’s nothing short of remarkable, don’t you?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon was tempted to argue against her use of the words </span>
  <em>
    <span>sweet</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>darling</span>
  </em>
  <span> - heaven knew the amount of stick he’d get from her brothers if word ever got back to the club - but Daphne had resumed her pacing, and he found he was too captivated by the whirlwind that was his wife spinning across the room to truly want to interject.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She was magnificent; gown completely ruined by the rain, hair almost entirely escaped from it’s pins, radiating a barely repressed rage that seemed to make the air around her vibrate. He didn’t think he’d seen anything more beautiful.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And I understand now, why what I did was so hurtful.” Daphne paused, half-turning towards him as she took a deep breath to calm herself. “I won’t lie, I still wish you’d have just talked to me rather than hiding behind clever wordplay, but mama taught me better than to think that that one wrong justifies another, and what I did to you </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> wrong, Simon. I see that now. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Just because I didn’t understand your reasons at the time doesn’t make them any less valid. And now that I know what sort of man your father was...that vow must have been the only thing keeping you going some days, and I took it away from you like it was nothing. I’m so sorry, Simon. I only wish I could somehow show you just how sorry I am.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>She trailed off into silence, still holding Simon’s gaze, and Simon found himself entirely without words. How on earth could he possibly put voice to the roiling turmoil of emotions that her impassioned speech had stirred up within him; how could he ever describe the sheer depth of his adoration for this amazing, infuriating, utterly breathtaking woman standing in front of him?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Simon?” Daphne prompted softly, for the first time sounding small and unsure. “Say something, please?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Impossible task or not, it seemed he was going to have to try. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I meant what I said, when we petitioned the Queen,” he began slowly, choosing every word carefully like he always did when things were too important to lose to an inconveniently timed stutter. “Talking with you was always easy. I don’t know how or when that changed.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Daphne frowned and opened her mouth to respond, but Simon held up a hand in a silent plea. He needed to get this out, before he lost his nerve.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Regardless of the reason, I hate that it did change, because having you in my life was - </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> - the best thing that’s ever happened to me. The idea that I might lose you because of one stupidly bad decision is almost too much to comprehend.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“My stupidly bad decision or yours?” Daphne squeaked out before clamping both hands over her mouth, looking truly mortified at her interruption.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Both of us,” Simon replied, smiling softly at her wide eyed stare. As much as his natural inclination was to absorb all of the blame on offer, he knew that this conversation was going to be a turning point for them. If he wasn’t honest now, he never would be. “We both made mistakes, both hurt one another, and I hope you know that I too am truly, deeply sorry for the pain I’ve caused you.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not easy for me to believe that I’m...enough,” he admitted. “All the privileges usually afforded to someone of my rank were tempered by my father’s insistence that my shortcomings would one day cause us to forfeit them. No matter what I did, no matter how hard I tried, it was never enough, and somewhere along the way I suppose my desire for his approval morphed into a desire to see him beaten instead.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He sighed, rubbing a hand wearily across his eyes. “As a child I went from terrified of losing our title to actively wanting to see it gone. It became the only thing that mattered to me, so much so that it didn’t even seem possible that I might be able to live without that motivation driving me. I think I forgot that this was a promise made by myself, to myself, and instead it became this...higher calling. It wasn’t a case of choosing it over you, the vow was already there, and there wasn’t anything I could do to change it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And now?” Daphne asked hesitantly after he trailed off into silence. “Do you still feel that way now?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon paused, taking a moment to truly consider the question. For so much of his life he’d been alone, and he’d come to terms with that fact. He’d accepted that his life was going to be one of transient friendships and rakish acquaintances, nothing long term, nothing meaningful. Nothing that would hurt too much to let go of when he eventually had to walk away.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Except now he didn’t have nothing, he was almost surprised to realise. He had his love for Daphne, and her love for him. He had the Brigerton family, who had welcomed him as one of their own, and he had the opportunity to have his own family, to give them everything he hadn’t.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Now...now I want more.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Just speaking the words felt like a physical weight lifting from his chest. He’d spent so much time telling himself that what mattered in life was besting his father, but now he saw that all he’d really done was end up putting just as much stock in the family line, albeit in the other direction. He had let the idea of heirs dictate his actions, and his life, just as it had his father. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And really, how could it be considered winning if he was still playing the game? </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Daphne gave him a soft smile, nibbling on her lower lip like she always did when thinking. Simon so desperately wanted to reach up and thumb it out from between her teeth, but he forced himself to resist the temptation.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I talked to my mama earlier, and she told me something that I think I’d always known but didn’t want to accept,” she finally said. “She told me that love doesn’t just happen. It’s a choice, and it’s a choice you have to continue to make every single day. I think that’s the same for most things really, you can choose to love, and choose to hope, and choose to work to be a little bit better today than you were yesterday.” She paused, tilting her head to the side with a soft smile. “And maybe it won’t always work, maybe there will be days that it seems impossible to make that choice. But I promise on those days I’ll choose to love you all the same.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Daphne</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Simon’s voice broke around her name, feeling so completely overwhelmed by such a declaration he didn’t quite know what to do with himself.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I love you, Simon,” Daphne said. “And even if we never have children I’ll still love you, because you’re enough. You’ve always been enough”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I love you too, Daphne, with every inch of my heart.” Simon said vehemently, stepping forward to take Daphne’s hands in his own, praying that his devotion to her showed as clearly on his face as it did hers.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t- I can’t say I want children, not yet.” He watched as Daphne valiantly battled not to let the disappointment show on her face, and found himself loving her all the more for it. “I’m not saying I never will, but I need time. I can’t bring children into this world until I’m sure I can give them all the love and affection they deserve, I just can’t.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Daphne gave a slightly shaky smile, but Simon could see the genuine warmth shining through. “And that’s a good, noble thing to want. Just like you.” A flash of heat flickered in her expression, one Simon hadn’t seen in far, far too long. “And, well, in the meantime there are still plenty of other things we can do.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon raised an eyebrow, feeling a familiar warmth pooling low in his gut. “Now what sort of things would you be implying, darling wife?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Daphne smiled devilishly, beckoning with one finger for Simon to follow her over to the bed. Still fully dressed, she clambered onto the bed, positioning herself sitting upright against the headboard. Locking eyes with Simon she slowly drew her knees apart, the rustling of her undershift a clear invitation, and one Simon didn’t need to receive twice. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He hastily set himself up between her legs, immediately ducking his head under her skirts. He buried himself against the fierce heat of her core, savouring the closeness that he’d for too long denied himself. A gentle hand settled on the back of his head above the layers of fabric, lightly urging him onwards, and he happily complied. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His tongue darted out to lick teasingly at her entrance, and he moaned softly to himself at Daphne’s full body shudder in response. He could feel himself getting hard within his breeches, but his own state of arousal faded to background noise as he applied himself with vigour to the act of bringing his wife pleasure.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He mouthed over her sensitive nub, sucking with just the amount of pressure he’d learnt drove her wild. He could hear her breathing start to grow short and erratic, feel her legs tensing on either side of his head as he moved one hand up to stroke her insides while his tongue continued its external assault.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, oh </span>
  <em>
    <span>Simon</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Daphne gasped, fingernails scratching haphazardly at the nape of his neck, and Simon knew that she was about to reach her peak. He twisted his fingers just so, and hummed in satisfaction against her core as her whole body tensed tight as a bow, then instantly relaxed as her climax hit.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>With one last light kiss to the inside of her thigh he drew out from underneath her dress, licking his lips with exaggerated smugness.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You look like the cat that’s got the cream,” Daphne panted breathlessly, lifting both her arms to beckon him forward.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Something like that,” Simon agreed as he prowled up her body, kissing her sweetly and deeply. He knew she’d be able to taste herself on his tongue, and that thought alone had him groaning and thrusting lightly against her leg.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually they drew apart just far enough that they could stare into each other's eyes, and Simon found himself taken aback by the depth of affection he could see shining back at him in Daphne’s expression gaze. He only hoped she could see the same in his.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Daphne kissed him lightly on the lips again, then unwrapped one arm from around his neck to snake down between their bodies. Her slender hand slipped inside his breeches without needing to undo the buttons, and Simon groaned as her long, dextrous fingers wrapped firmly around his heated length.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“God, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Daphne</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he muttered, dropping his head against her collarbone as she started to stroke him, her range of movement hampered somewhat by his clothing but no less effective.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>With everything that had transpired between them, it was really no wonder that he found himself barrelling towards his own climax almost embarrassingly quickly. He had just about enough time to mentally apologise to his valet for the upcoming state of his clothing before he was shuddering his release into Daphne’s hand, his hips thrusting weakly into her loosening grasp.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Daphne slowly withdrew her hand, noticeably silent. Simon lifted his head just far enough off her shoulder to see her appraising her fingers consideringly. The evidence of his spend glittered against her porcelain skin as she rotated her wrist back and forth, and for a moment Simon wondered if the visual reminder was making her doubt her declarations.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“How does it work?” she finally asked curiously. Clearly seeing Simon’s confusion she clarified, “To make a baby, how does a woman need to - erm - take in a man’s seed?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon felt his cheeks heat at the question, and briefly found himself sympathising very hard with Viscountess Bridgerton after all. Still, Daphne’s lack of carnal knowledge had gotten them into this mess in the first place, and he refused to withhold anything more from her, personal embarrassment be damned.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Only through the most...traditional approach,” he scrambled for the right words. “With me inside of you, between your legs.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Daphne hummed consideringly, still staring intently at her hand. “So on my skin like this, it wouldn’t do anything?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, nothing.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And if I were to consume it in other ways, that would also do nothing?” Slowly, oh so slowly, she raised her hand to her lips. Her eyes darted from her hand to Simon’s face, as if waiting for him to object. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No...that would also be fine,” Simon rasped, feeling altogether lightheaded at the suggestion. He could get no more words out after that, only stare utterly transfixed as Daphne poked her tongue out to slowly lick his release off her fingers.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh God,” he groaned as he watched her eyes flicker closed in apparent satisfaction. “Are you trying to kill me, woman?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>At that Daphne opened her eyes again, her expression going from satisfied to devious. “Well that wasn’t exactly the intention,” she said, voice entirely too calm for what she’d just put him through. “But now that I know the effect it has on you-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Whatever she’d been about to say was lost as Simon pounced on her, covering her mouth with his own as he proceeded to - very thoroughly - show her the full extent of exactly what effect she had on him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Twice.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Later, much later, after night had fallen and the candles in the room had burnt down to practically nothing, Simon looked down at Daphne sleeping contentedly in the crook of his arm and smiled. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Things might not be perfect, not straight away at least, but he knew without a shadow of a doubt that they’d get there. And at the end of the day, that was all that mattered.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>We are all privileged enough to live in a time where sex education and the nuances of consent are <i>vastly</i> better understood and discussed than for poor Daphne back in the 1800's, so while I don't think it is fair to judge Daphne's actions through a 21st century lens I will take this moment to remind anyone who needs it that consent is all about FIRES. </p>
<p>That is to say that consent - other than being incredibly hot - must be <b>F</b>reely given, <b>I</b>nformed, <b>R</b>eversible, <br/> <b>E</b>nthusiatic and <b>S</b>pecific!</p>
<p>Stay safe kids!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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